The Muted Scarps
by BalthierFlare
Summary: Ashe's POV. The Nabreus Deadlands spark memories and inspire her thoughts.
1. Chapter 1

-_The Muted Scarps-_

The Nabreus Deadlands.

A lone doorway carved from marble greets your unexpected visit, a small representation of the structures that once rose from the depths.

It leads to a rickety outlook, covered in ancient moss and morning dew. It overlooks the area, a setting that leaves me breathless, and tearful.

The Sun isn't as bright as it should be.

A sea of mist. A blanket of white fog. What does it disguise? What remains below the constant cover?

What lies underneath?

It was his homeland. Now it's shielded from traveler's eyes, dare they enter, blocked by smog born from nethicite.

The rock formations stand soaring, acknowledging that only what is dead, or never once lived, can survive.

He passed on here.

His last words were spoken here.

And for what?

How long has it been since someone passed through?

Would they think of who had thrown their lives away for limitless destruction?

An endless stream of clouds, a faint breeze to keep them stirring.

I can still picture his smiling face. Had he died in vain, to protect his fortress?

Had he died for nothing?

No. I must believe, I must endure.

What lies beyond? What stories will it tell?

There may be nothing aside from remnants of colonization. However, it was once inhabited. There were streets with cobblestone walkways, peddlers on street corners, begging for civilians to purchase goods. There were thieves, there were nobles. There were gardens filled with ivy, flowers blooming, and ponds with fish. There was a kingdom. There was life.

Now there is nothing but desolation.

How can anything be sustained on grounds littered with blood from wars past? How can anything live?

It may be in hope's reach, but not yet in its grasp.

I heard steps behind me, its owner I was not sure of, but I knew I had no words to speak.

Their boots were visible, as I glanced out of the corner of my eye, and familiar.

I was too absorbed in the empty fullness of my surroundings to look at his face. The wind brushed like a feather across my face, and he stood beside me, leaving everything unsaid.

I finally relinquished my ties, and looked towards him. He was absorbed as I was, staring off into the dreadful abyss. Maybe he felt the same intensity as I did.

I could feel his eyes as mine returned to the oblivion.

I should speak.

I can not.

The pain would overflow: cascading over the edge, boiling with misery, and distrust, and all broken memories.

He placed his hand on my shoulder.

Would he speak?

Did he know?

He took his hand away, "I am truly sorry."

I looked at him. And what could he apologize for?

Is he to be held responsible for Rasler's death? Is he to be held accountable for obliteration, for ending the lives of those who did not fight hard enough?

No.

He took up arms, defending his homeland, alongside Rasler.

He was simply lucky enough to survive. If such a think as luck exists.

My lips parted, but nothing came out. Then I knew I must speak.

"Basch, nothing is in your debt."

He looked at me, amazed.

Did he think I blamed him?

He smiled, and walked away, leaving me in the eternal silence. My emotions, my memories, my feelings, all taking their toll, I collapsed to the ground. All that was around me was blurred from the tears staining my weak face.

Only now, only this once will I cry.

This is the last on his behalf. For he knew the emotions I bestowed, and he remembered when we were together.

I was the one to share them in his absence.

I brushed the tears from my misted sight, gathering one last view of the Nabreus Deadlands.

Deadlands.

I am living. I do not belong in a place causing so much remorse. The past is a recollection, and that is all it ever will be.

I must act now; I must fight for the future.

The Empire will suffer its due return.

--

**Disclaimer: I do not own FF12, SquareEnix does.**

**A/N: Wow. When I hit The Muted Scarps I almost burst into tears. Then I grabbed a notebook and a pen when I saw the overlook. This is before wandering around a bit and finding the demolished castle. Add a bit to it, may be making it longer. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

_-The Muted Scarps-_

"Ashe," someone called me from a distance. I faced the voice, finding its owner to be Basch, "Will you enter the Deadlands?"

I was mystified. Why should I enter? It was past, done and over with. I couldn't change that which had happened. All this visit could do was fuel my craving to make the Empire suffer its consequences.

What if he knew? Maybe he considered this, and was finding a way for it to be beneficial.

If seeing the malicious fog masking the destruction below caused my fury to enflame, what would happen when I saw the true emptiness firsthand? Was this good or bad? Should I be feeling this much resent toward the Empire?

Yes.

They were targeting Dalmasca, ready to obliterate all that my ancestors had built, owned and ruled over. Everything our allies, like Nalbina, had protected for ages.

Would being this infuriated help anything? Would it make me stronger?

Perhaps, yet…

Couldn't it make me foolish? Or careless?

My eyes wandered to Basch; did he want to see what lay below?

My expression must be questioning. After all, how would anger aid?

Was he simply interested? Had being surrounded my sky pirates brought upon a childish curiosity in this knight before me?

If I could control my emotions, I may channel it appropriately so I do not misuse my anger. Was I, too, changed by these pirates? Had they changed me to have a devilish desire to find what was below?

I must see what lies below.

"I will."

He did not seem phased, rather he expected me to willingly enter.

I lead the party down the winding ramp of stone, further into the dense cloud of mist. I was uncertain whether there was ground ahead of me. My feet powered forward, only because I knew there was footing beneath me at the moment.

Suddenly I could see: the area in my sight was no longer crowded by clouds.

The stone everywhere matched fluidly with that of which we had crossed prior. Small puddles of murky water settled in the rock depressions, sprouting tiny leafy plants. We continued onward, reaching a bridge of worn planks providing passage over a thin river, we passed, reaching stone walkways once more. Mushroom shaped lily pads sprung randomly out of rock, near tall stemmed flowers housing fanned petals.

I glanced toward Basch as we waded through the forgiving clouds. He scanned his surroundings. Did he think the same as I?

There were fiends lurking, crawling everywhere and anywhere, spawned from the nethicite's remnants of power. However, there were delicate red flowers with feather like antennae next to these fiends. There were lily pads and fan flowers beside the undead. What did it mean?

It meant life was able to be sustained, aside from that bore from vengeance.

There was hope that peddlers could inhabit the rebuilt cobblestone streets of Nabudis.

One more step and I witnessed the expanse of the forgotten castle, the Necrohol of Nabudis.

"Will you?" Basch's gruff tone indicated a mysterious emotion filling him. Was it grief?

The structure stood unevenly, jutting from the abyss, seemingly unstable. The gates had been broken off, leaving a clear opening to the dark chambers ahead.

Do I enter?

--

**A/N: Another chapter! Yup, I listen to your requests. CX Just in case anyone is wondering, I will be writing another chapter to finish this story. ^^**


End file.
